


threaded

by orphan_account



Series: sewn in [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Collars, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Jon.”It takes a while for the voice to register and Jon to stir, and when he finally does blink awake it’s to find himself curled into a cramped space and surrounded by blankets. He can’t remember where it is or what’s happening at first, until he registers Elias staring down at him - chair pulled back from the desk, Elias leaned forward to see him better - and remembers everything.





	threaded

“Jon.”

It takes a while for the voice to register and Jon to stir, and when he finally does blink awake it’s to find himself curled into a cramped space and surrounded by blankets. He can’t remember where it is or what’s happening at first, until he registers Elias staring down at him - chair pulled back from the desk, Elias leaned forward to see him better - and remembers everything. That, right, yes, under the desk. The desk that he was bent over - a quick glance toward the window behind Elias confirms that it appears to be evening - earlier today, with Elias fingering him and. Well. Yes.

He extricates himself from under the desk slowly, stretching out his aching joints and wincing when the movement pulls at the cut on his thigh and makes it burn. He doesn’t lift himself fully off the floor, though, ends up kneeling there and squinting up at Elias until the other hands him his glasses, at which point the squinting stops but he doesn’t move to get up yet.

“What’s… what time is it?” he asks first.

“Eight o’clock.”

That leaves Jon blinking a little; he’s reasonably sure it had been closer to seven this morning when Elias had found him, so even if everything earlier really _had_ gone on as long as it had seemed to, he’s still been asleep for near enough twelve hours, without a nightmare or an abrupt wake-up or _anything_. After months of not being able to snatch more than a few hours here and there without waking up in a cold sweat, it hardly seems possible.

His next consideration is the lateness, and the fact that Georgie will presumably have expected him back before now, but before he can manage a proper level of alarm over that, Elias interrupts: “I’ve taken the liberty of informing your… current host that you’ll be delayed, and not to expect you back at any kind of reasonable time.”

Elias follows this up by producing Jon’s phone - which had definitely been in Jon’s pocket when he’d fallen asleep - from his desk, passing it over so that Jon can see the text conversation with Georgie. It’s a little uncanny how well Elias has imitated him in it, to the point that if Jon didn’t _know_ that he’d been asleep and that the texts from ‘him’ are actually Elias’ work, he’d be half-questioning whether he’d been texting in his sleep.

It does solve that problem, though, so in the end he just pockets his phone and offers Elias an awkward thanks, which Elias brushes off.

“Anyway,” he tells Jon, “I’m heading out. Come.”

Jon scrambles up after him when Elias stands, thrown a little by the way the sharp command causes him a full-body shiver. Once he’s up, Elias gestures for Jon to follow and then leads the way out of the building, back through that same back entrance that he’d brought him in through this morning.

It’s only when they get to Elias’ car and Elias nods for Jon to get in that Jon stops, unsure.

“Where are you planning to take me?”

If Elias weren’t so put-together, Jon almost gets the feeling he might have rolled his eyes at the question.

“To my house, Jon. You’ve been asleep all day and haven’t eaten, and I’ll feel better knowing for certain that that’s been remedied.” He pauses, like he’s almost daring Jon to comment on the fact that he’ll absolutely know for certain whether Jon eats, regardless of whether they’re in reach of one another, and then carries on. “And besides that, it’s obvious that… other measures need to be taken, if we don’t want you trying to wander into the Archives in a daze every time you get homesick.”

(there’s a part of Jon that feels like he ought to argue with the idea of calling the draw to the Archives _homesickness_ ; there’s another part of Jon that’s the Archivist, and knows it to be true, and so he doesn’t)

Instead he just nods slowly and climbs into the passenger seat, sitting there stiffly as Elias gets in and starts to take them out of the car park. He doesn't quite know what to do with himself - what _do_ you discuss on a car ride of indeterminate length with your (former?) boss who's almost certainly committed at least one murder, but who also fucked you earlier and then let you sleep under his desk like a dog? The weather hardly feels appropriate - but Elias seems content to just drive in silence, keeping an eye on him without ever actually looking away from the road in the slightest.

Eventually Jon manages to relax enough to settle back properly in the seat, and Elias nods approvingly.

Jon doesn't particularly follow where they're going or even how long the journey lasts, but after some time Elias pulls up in front of a house that's a great deal fancier than Jon’s and gestures for him to get out. Once Jon is out, Elias leads him into the house and settles him in an armchair that probably cost more than most of the things Jon owned even before he was a wanted man, and let alone now.

Elias watches him for long moments, and then tells him: “Stay.”

He leaves the room before Jon can fully process the command, but he doesn't think that means Elias is even slightly unaware of the way it makes him shiver and try to sink into the chair when he does process it. Jon waits there, then, until Elias returns, places a bowl of pasta in his hands, and then sits down on the sofa and picks up a book sat on the end table. Despite the fact he appears to be immediately engrossed in the book, Jon can tell Elias is still watching him anyway, and between the expectant gaze he can feel on him without Elias even looking and the fact that he hasn’t eaten all day, it doesn’t take long before he just gives up and eats the meal he’s been given. When he’s done, Elias is back up and taking the bowl from him almost immediately, and then disappearing back out of the room.

When he comes back it’s with a wooden box in his hands instead, one that he brings to Jon and hands over with a soft, “Open it.”

Inside, Jon finds, there are two things. The first is a metal wristband, surgical steel if he had to guess, that looks almost entirely plain. The second is a leather collar, black, with a metal ring dangling from the front, stitching around the edges in a green so dark it blends in unless he looks closely and, upon further inspection, a pattern of stylized eyes stitched across the length of the collar in the same thread. He has the band on his wrist before he’s even registered his hands moving, and as it shifts and catches the light he registers that it has the same pattern of stylized eyes travelling down it; thin lines raised so barely from the surface of the metal that they register more by touch than by sight until he knows where to look.

Once he has the band on his wrist, Jon pauses, frowning down at it.

“I— I didn’t actually mean to—”

“That’s where it’s meant to be,” Elias interrupts. “Both of them will help prevent your… shall we call it withdrawal? The band less intensely, but it has the advantage of being something you can wear all of the time.”

That explains the need to put it on immediately, Jon supposes, and the fact he feels more calm somehow with it on even as he’s unsettled by _needing_ it. His fingers trace over the leather of the collar as he lets himself relax a little, gaze flicking up to where Elias is stood over him.

“You said the wristband is— that it works less intensely than this.”

Elias nods. “Between your attachment and… other inclinations, I fear that might even be too much for you. But it’ll certainly do the job of keeping you from needing to run back to the Archives.”

Jon is halfway to picking the collar up when Elias removes the box from his grip, at which point he registers for the first time that he’d been trying to pick the collar up and blinks, taken aback.

“Quite,” Elias says, as though the blink was words, and then shakes his head and gestures for Jon to stand and follow him. “Come with me, Jon.”

He leads Jon up to the bedroom, which has the side effect of reminding Jon of their activities earlier and flustering him, and then distracts him thoroughly from thinking about _anything_ by sitting down on the edge of the bed, gesturing for Jon to kneel in front of him, and picking the collar out of the box. The part of Jon that’s drawn to the collar, the same part of him that had him wandering toward the Archives this morning, has him on his knees in front of Elias immediately, chin tilted up to let Elias at his neck, and Elias makes an approving noise as he fastens the collar around Jon’s throat.

The collar is definitely more than the band.

When it’s fastened, it’s as though there’s a shift in his vision - an odd jolt to the side that leaves Jon’s head spinning briefly - and then there’s _too much_. Everywhere he looks, it’s like his mind is trying to catalogue every single tiny detail and pick out any trace of things beyond the mundane; to check everything against a system of categorization that he doesn’t know enough of and isn’t sure anyone human can comprehend fully anyway, so the input bounces around in staticky, inconclusive bursts and makes his head hurt. He makes a miserable noise and reaches up to press at his head, and Elias sighs above him.

“Yes,” he says quietly, “I suspected it might be too soon for that.”

Jon lifts his head to look at Elias ( _danger-safety ally-enemy acolyte-master—_ ) and lets out another pained moan at the rush of information the movement provokes, too much for him to process or even pick out much of worth. And then Elias is leaning forward, removing his glasses, and pulling something soft and fabric over Jon’s eyes that he ties behind Jon’s head.

Jon still feels like his head is over-full with too much information to process, at first, but it begins to ease off slowly as Elias lets him sit there and breathe slowly with his eyes covered. His hearing seems sharper than usual - though he can’t tell if that’s another effect of the collar, or just him acclimatizing quickly to the lack of sight - but he seems able to process things normally, at least. The benefits of whatever force he’s tied to apparently being mostly about _watching_ , he supposes, if the names for it that he’s heard are any indication.

Once he’s had enough time in the dark to be able to think properly again, Jon reaches out, hesitant and blind, to touch at Elias’ leg. Elias’ presence is the most distinct thing to him, blindfolded, and he can’t tell how much of that is being tied to the same power and how much of it is being so close to Elias and how much of it is just— is just wanting to be aware of him, of wanting to feel his touch to make up for not being able to see him. Elias allows the touch and guides Jon up onto the bed, touching him in slow motions that still make him jolt because he can’t predict them.

“Elias,” Jon breathes out, the sound ragged in his throat, and there’s a pause - a considering one, though Jon can’t tell how he knows - and then Elias is reaching up, hooking his fingers through the metal ring that hangs cold above Jon’s collarbone, and tugging. It’s only a light tug, but it makes the leather of the collar tug against his neck and has him making another ragged noise in the back of his throat as he follows the motion of it and ends up straddling Elias’ lap.

“I must admit to being torn,” Elias says, closer to his ear than Jon had realized.

“Torn?”

Elias hums his assent, and then delivers a bite to Jon’s jaw that makes him jolt and press closer.

“I - we - need you to be stronger than you’ve shown so far,” he says, “But I have to admit that the… neediness, unhelpful as it is, is definitely… appealing.”

Jon can feel his face heating up under the fabric covering his eyes, and he ducks his head, trying to work up a protest that doesn’t get much further than stammering. Not least of all because just as he thinks he’s about to hit on actual words, Elias tugs the ring of the collar again, harder this time, and it turns into a helpless groan instead. Which rather undermines the protest he was aiming for, and makes Elias laugh besides, and Jon is _frustrated_ enough with being so easily rendered wordless that he leans in and kisses Elias hard, reaching up to grip his hair so that he can make sure the angle is right even without vision.

Elias seems surprised for a second, if the momentary frozen pause is any indication, and then his lips curve up into a smirk against Jon’s and he opens his mouth willingly enough, which is— well, Jon has less experience at this, considering his experience in kissing is limited enough as is, but he tries his best to both impress Elias with it and to ignore the feeling that Elias is indulging him more than anything. When he breaks the kiss, he goes in for Elias’ neck instead, because that seems simple enough, and manages a few sloppy bites before Elias’ fingers are wrapped around the back of the collar and pulling him back sharply. That makes him groan helplessly again, much to his frustration.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Jon,” Elias tells him, tone mild but undeniably a warning. “No marking.”

Jon frowns under the fabric. “You _definitely_ left marks earlier.”

(even ignoring the cut on his thigh, he’s almost certain his neck is marked)

“Yes,” Elias says. “Yes, I did.”

“So what’s the difference?” Jon asks, aware that he sounds overly petulant.

Elias laughs, and slips his hand around to tug at the ring of the collar again. “The fact that you need this even when you can’t handle it, for one thing. Perhaps when that’s no longer the case…”

Jon’s not stupid, and he knows Elias is trying to— to, what, make him _more Archivist_? He knows that, and so he can guess that that’s a not-even-subtle attempt to manipulate him into it.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t make the thought of having the privilege to mark up Elias and remove some of his perfect composure any less attractive. He makes a frustrated noise under his breath, practically baring his teeth when Elias laughs again, and squirms more firmly into Elias’ lap.

“And until then?”

He doesn’t need to be able to see to know that Elias is smirking now, but that knowledge still doesn’t give Jon enough warning before Elias has rolled them in a swift motion to have Jon pinned under him with his legs splayed wide around Elias’.

“Until then, the pleasure is all mine,” Elias says, every bit the cat that got the canary, and reaches down to tug Jon’s shirt off - the ease of it being the single upside to being stuck wearing Georgie’s merchandise instead of his own button-ups - before leaning in and biting a sharp mark into Jon’s collarbone that has him gasping and grabbing at Elias.

He keeps it up from there, biting and sucking down Jon’s torso and avoiding the scars in a way that Jon suspects is more about his own comfort levels than any kind of disgust on Elias’ part. By the time he reaches Jon’s waistband, Jon is a mess, squirming and bucking his hips and making increasingly desperate noises as he grips at the sheets beneath him, and somewhere along the way he’s started begging in broken gasps between his moans, too. Elias pulls back a little, and Jon has the sensation of being pinned like a butterfly by Elias’ sweeping gaze even without being able to see it.

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Elias says.

Before Jon can even ask what he means, Elias is tugging the rest of his clothes down off of his hips, and then Elias’ head is between his legs and oh, _oh_ , it turns out that there are many things his mouth is good for and that this is _definitely_ one of them. Jon starts trying to fuck up into his mouth immediately, so that Elias has to hold his hips down firmly enough to leave bruises, and that in itself makes things even better.

It doesn’t take long this time before Jon is coming, a toe-curling howling thing that has him reaching down to grab at Elias’ hair and try to pull him up the bed. Elias allows it, kissing Jon firmly and letting him taste himself there - not something he enjoys, usually, but Elias groans into Jon’s mouth and that brief loss of control on his part is more than enough to make it worth it. Planning to return the favor at least to some extent, Jon tries to reach down and touch Elias, and makes a frustrated noise when Elias catches his hands instead.

It turns into a shuddered groan when Elias pins his wrists above his head, and he doesn’t miss the considering hum he gets in response. “I have some things I still need to do tonight,” Elias tells him, keeping Jon’s wrists pinned as he speaks. “And I rather fear I won’t get around to them if I let you do that.”

Jon’s not _entirely_ sure he believes Elias is telling the truth, but the grip on his wrists and the wrung-out post-orgasm feeling have him too distracted to protest beyond a low whine in the back of his throat that has Elias huffing out a laughing breath through his nose.

“If you can behave yourself, you can come with me,” Elias says, and Jon finds himself nodding eagerly, because he suspects the alternative would either be being left alone in here or sent back to Georgie’s, and neither sound particularly appealing right now.

“Good.”

He lets go of Jon’s wrists and, instead, grips the ring of the collar to guide him off of the bed. Once Jon is standing, Elias starts to lead him out of the room, and Jon stops still despite the tug.

“Aren’t— Where are my clothes?”

Elias pauses, and Jon can feel the considering gaze before he says, “Your clothes are staying in here. If you want to dress yourself, I’m sure I can find something to attach the collar to, and you can stay in here.” Another pause. “Of course, if you still want to come along…”

Jon hesitates, weighing it up for long moments, and then nods jerkily.

“Good boy,” Elias says immediately, making Jon shiver as he’s led out of the bedroom and - slowly, carefully, although he’s half-aware that he’s finding it increasingly easy to navigate with his eyes covered - down the stairs and back into the living room, until Elias is nudging him down onto his knees next to… the sofa that Elias had sat on earlier, he thinks.

And then Elias is sitting down and, if Jon’s hearing is any indication, just picking up the book he had earlier and settling down to read.

“…when you said you had things you needed to do,” Jon says, after a few minutes and the sound of several pages turning, “Am I supposed to understand that what you meant was just _reading_?”

(because if it was, then he’s out here naked for no good reason, which is infuriating and embarrassing and much, much more arousing than he wants to admit)

“Perhaps it was.” There’s the sound of another page turning, and then, “Would that be a _problem_ , Jon?”

Jon lifts his head until he thinks - hopes - he’s more-or-less staring at Elias’ face despite the covered eyes, and tries to think of a good way to express that it definitely would be, before he ends up giving up and just tossing his head.

“No, it’s— it’s fine. You win, dammit.”

“Yes,” Elias says, softer than Jon would have expected. “That’s the hope, isn’t it?”

(it’s not what he’d meant, and they both know it, but in the face of that softness Jon finds himself just laying his head down onto Elias’ knee and shutting his eyes, exhausted at the thought of what’s to come and, for now, limiting his focus to just this moment here with Elias)


End file.
